


Our (un)spoken words

by prototyping



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Prompt Fic, Romance, quick fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: She knew whatshewanted. She was willing to bet she knew what he wanted, too.[Written for the Dimileth Hot Flash prompts “treating injuries” + “washing up.”]
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100
Collections: Dimileth Hot Flash





	Our (un)spoken words

“How’s this?”

Dimitri’s shoulders tightened for an instant, and then relaxed again as the heat seeped into his skin. “Good, thank you.”

Byleth offered a mild smile as she applied a little more pressure. “Let me know if it gets worse.” Dimitri nodded, but the next couple minutes passed in silence. Their quiet breaths and her occasional efforts to wet and wring out the rag again were the only sounds.

Finally, Byleth traded the cloth for a dry towel and dabbed carefully at the scar in Dimitri’s shoulder, still a painful pink. As she made quick but careful work of applying a new bandage, she inquired, “Any changes?”

He stared down at his hand for a moment, and then shook his head. “No. It aches a little now and again, so the feeling isn’t completely gone.”

Humming in response, Byleth tied off the bandage, and then took his hand in hers. Gently, she massaged his palm with her fingertips and rubbed his wrist. “Make sure you take it easy. You’re already pushing yourself enough as it is.”

“I will. And what of your wounds?”

“Nothing to worry about. Sore, but healing.” Like him, she just needed rest, and time for her body to naturally heal what the curative spells couldn’t.

“Glad to hear it.” His voice dropped, but when Byleth glanced up he only gave her a tired smile. She figured she understood. This was the most they had said to one another since leaving Enbarr’s palace. It felt as though there was much to be said between them, but at the same time nothing at all considering how honest they were with each other by nature. She could tell from his lingering looks and warm expressions that he felt the same way she did: exhausted, sad, but relieved.

She helped him into a clean shirt, minding his bad arm, and buttoned it up slowly. Sitting this close to him, she could feel his warm breath stirring her bangs. She kept her head and her gaze down.

When she finished, she expected another formality or two from him－ _I’m sorry for burdening you with such menial tasks_ or _Thank you again for your help_ －but Dimitri remained silent. Even when she looked up and found him watching her, he didn’t speak right away.

When he finally broke the silence, it was with barely more than a whisper.

“I’m glad you made it back, Professor.”

The vulnerability in those few words made her breath catch. It wasn’t the firm voice of the king she had followed for the last few months, nor the snarl of the broken man from before then. It was more like the prince she had once known, with a younger face and fewer scars and a voice that shook as he explained to her that he was still training after midnight because he couldn’t sleep.

“I promised I would,” she reminded him. She brushed some hair from his face and mirrored his sad smile. “Thank you for not giving up, either.”

Dimitri lowered his head with a soft huff of a laugh. Her skin tingled where it touched. “All thanks to you. Whenever I doubted… I only had to look at you to remember: I have things worth living for as myself, as well. Not just as king, or even as a man atoning for his sins.”

Her hand hovered for a moment, and then she touched his cheek. He was warm, _so_ warm, his stubble rough against her fingertips and real. He was here. Bruised and battered and only a little less broken than before, but undeniably _here_ and _real._

She felt his sharp inhale more than she heard it. “And what does Dimitri, himself, want to live for?” she wondered quietly.

Another huff, this time against her palm. “Much more than what I deserve, I am certain.”

The sadness in his gaze hurt to see. Byleth knew he was here and real, but Dimitri didn’t seem ready to accept that yet. He spoke of _himself_ but had yet to truly think that way. In his mind, he was still that king, that man atoning for his sins.

He was still afraid to want something for himself.

Byleth stroked his cheek with her thumb. She knew what _she_ wanted. She was willing to bet she knew what he wanted, too.

“Says who?” she murmured.

His mouth was even warmer than his face, and much softer. Despite his clear surprise, he welcomed her kiss as though he’d always been waiting for it, relaxing beneath her touch and kissing her gently, slowly, without hesitation.

By the time she slid into his lap, that tenderness was giving way to something else. His good arm held her fast against his chest and her hands were in his hair, touching his face, his neck, eager for more of him but concerned for his injuries. She wanted to push him flat against the bed and grind her hips down against his, satisfying the ache pulsing through her－she wanted to give, and take, starved by the anxiety that had been building for days and that now flooded her veins as relief that made it hard to think straight. She wanted to show him everything he deserved, and to give him just as much, but the pained throb in her side and her thigh and the lack of his left hand on her body reminded her that now wasn’t the time.

So she told him instead.

“You deserve…” She broke off their kiss to press her forehead to his, to fill his vision and all of his senses so that there was no more room for doubt. “You deserve the _world_ , Dimitri,” she panted.

Ignoring his stunned look, she kissed him again before he could refute her sentiment.

When he finally kissed her back, she tasted salt on his lips.


End file.
